


The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

by BlackTeaAddict



Series: The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Dissociation, Dubious Consent, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt and Pseudo-Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Loki and his peculiar relationship with his body, Loki dies a lot but never permanently, M/M, Medical Horror, Non-Consensual Resurrection, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Resurrection, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, The tenderly cruel Grandmaster is the best Grandmaster, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackTeaAddict/pseuds/BlackTeaAddict
Summary: After Loki’s tragic encounter with Thanos, the Grandmaster brings him back from the dead. This gives the Grandmaster absolute power over Loki’s life and death.Loki desperately wants to regain the control over his life and body. It seems like death is the only way to do so.





	The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve decided to have my own take on “the Grandmaster brings Loki back” trope. And thus I wrote an Infinity War fix-it that in fact made everything even more horrible. (But at least I let Loki live). I didn’t expect for it to be so long, but there we are, three weeks later, with 12k of Loki suffering. Because, apparently, I love to see my faves suffer. That’s who I am.
> 
> This story was sponsored by my aching belly which woke me up one morning. And when I was squirming on the bed, I reminded myself of this little idea that germinated in my brain, back in July, after reading the amazing [_on a string_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277203) by ragnasok (go read it, if you haven’t already), and I’ve decided to finally put it “on paper”.

 

Loki opened his eyes slowly and looked around. Walls with intricate, colourful patterns. He knew these walls. He was most definitely on Sakaar, in one of the many Grandmaster’s bedrooms. But somehow it didn’t feel right. He knew something was off but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Thinking would be much easier, if his brain wasn’t so muddled. And if all these colours and swirls didn’t make him dizzy.

He drifted off for a while and then jerked awake with sudden realization. _Thanos._ Loki’s hands shot up to his neck and he took a big gulp of air. There were no fingers clasped around his neck and he was able to breathe with no problem, so he let himself lay down again and relax a bit.

What was he doing on Sakaar? How did he get there? He remembered Thanos attacking the ship, his brother screaming in pain as the Power Stone seared into his skull. He remembered giving up the Tesseract, then his failed attempt at killing the purple bastard. And then… he could swear he still felt the big fingers on his neck, clasped around like a phantom collar. He took a deep breath and touched his neck again to make sure nothing’s really there anymore.

Why wasn’t he dead? His neck seemed to be absolutely alright. No aching muscles, no swelling, no sign that he was brutally choked. Now that he thought about it, his whole body was in a surprisingly good condition, he didn’t feel so well in a really long time. He has been dead before and he never felt so good after waking up. Even if he wasn’t in an overwhelming pain, there always had been at least a persisting, dull ache.

The door on his right opened in a swift motion and the Grandmaster walked inside.

“Ah, so good to see you awake, sweetheart.” he greeted Loki cheerfully. “You slept for real long, you know. I hope at least you had, ah, some good dreams.”

The Grandmaster sat down on the bed and stroked Loki’s cheek tenderly. “You were in a truly horrible state when I found you. Drifting in the middle of space among the debris. Someone really did a number on you. Gosh, those ugly bruises on your neck.”  He flinched and touched Loki’s neck with the tips of his fingers. The sudden contact made Loki twitch. ”Easy there, sunshine. Everything is alright now. You see, I have this, ah, neat, little trick. I can just snap my fingers and the dead are all fine and dandy once again. Just as if death never crossed the path with them.” He gave Loki a broad smile. “Oh, I also took care of that nasty, badly healed wound in the middle of your chest.” He tapped Loki’s chest with the tip of his finger.

Oh. That would explain why Loki felt so unusually fine. And if the Grandmaster visited the place of the attack then maybe...

“Did you bring back anyone else?”

“Anyone else? You mean Sparkles?” Loki nodded, his eyes widening slightly with hope. “No, I’m so sorry, sweet pie, but no.” Loki slumped back on the mattress. “I didn’t find him anywhere beside you. Also, uh, I’m not even sure I would want him back here, honestly. Just so he could steal my new champion? And by the way, I also didn’t find my old champion. You know, the big, green one...”

So it looked like Loki was once again on Sakaar and without his presumably dead brother. But if Thor wasn’t drifting anywhere in the debris, could that mean that he survived? Though Loki suspected the Grandmaster didn’t look very hard and just because he didn’t find him, it didn’t mean his brother was not there. Did it even make any sense to delude himself like that? He traded the Tesseract for Thor’s life, but everything after that went so horribly wrong. Can he really be sure that Thanos kept his side of a deal? Can he really be sure that his brother didn’t share the fate of everyone else travelling on The Statesman? It felt weird to think that someone is able to kill his mighty brother… but Thanos is something else entirely. Something entirely out of their league...

The Grandmaster waved a hand right in front of Loki’s face, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Oh, honey, you’re doing that again.” The Grandmaster sighed loudly. “I feel like I’m telling you this a zillionth time but, ah, you really worry too much. But worrying, you see, it won’t bring back the dead. And, believe me, I know a thing or two about these matters. The important thing is you’re back. Alive. And you should just enjoy yourself and… live, you know.” The Grandmaster leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Loki’s temple. “And don’t waste your time like that for such a sad, pointless, unpleasant things as worrying.”

 

***

 

Loki knew it can’t be that easy. He was absolutely sure a favour like this does not come without a price or some kind of a catch. As the old Midgardian saying goes, he signed a pact with the devil. Except he didn’t really sign anything, the devil just forged his signature. It might seem that a person like Loki would be in the devil’s position much more often than it actually happened. In fact, lately he seemed to gain an exceptional ability to land himself in the position of a miserable fool at the mercy of various devils.

 

***

 

He was at a party, loud music carrying through the room. The Grandmaster was embracing him from behind and together they swayed slowly to the music. Loki took a sip of his drink and leaned against Grandmaster’s chest, resting head on his shoulder. The Grandmaster caressed the side of his neck with gentle kisses.

“Are you enjoying yourself, kitten?” asked the Grandmaster, Loki could feel his warm breath against his cheek.

Loki laughed softly. “Of course, my love,” he purred. “How could I not, with you there, beside me.”

The Grandmaster seemed to like his answer and joined their lips in a passionate kiss.

So that was his life now. From one party to another. Drink after drink. Fucking few times a day on any nearest available surface. And playing whatever games the Grandmaster wishes.

He was also back to bright, glittery eye shadows and clothes far more revealing than what he’s used to. Though, he had to admit, he was grateful for the low neckline, right now he probably could not stand any high collar rubbing uncomfortably on his neck.

A new song had started and the strobe lights changed from warm yellows to harsh, cold violet, glowing ominously like a stone in Thanos’ glove, bringing back the dreadful memories. Loki closed his eyes and focused on the rhythm of music and Grandmaster’s arms wrapped securely around his middle, trying to keep his breath calm. The Grandmaster seemed to notice his nervousness anyway, because he started to rub his flanks soothingly.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“What? Ah, nothing, I’m fine, really.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but the Grandmaster did not seem to buy that.

“Why don’t we sit down, sweetheart”. The Grandmaster steered them towards one of the sofas, his hand a gentle but firm presence on the small of Loki’s back. “You’re so, uh, fragile after that nasty accident. But it’s alright, we have all the time in the universe for you to get back into good shape.”

They sat down, the Grandmaster’s arm wrapped snugly around his shoulders. Loki let himself relax a bit, the tension fading from his muscles. The Grandmaster grabbed one of his hands and rubbed circles in the center of his palm with his thumb.

“You know, sugar bunny,” said the Grandmaster. “I don’t say that often, I really don’t. But I- ah, I missed you a bit, honey. I missed your cute, melodic laugh. I missed your beautiful, talented, magic fingers. I missed these loud, sweet moans you make while I fuck you senseless. Oh, sweetie, you truly are one of a kind. Nobody can liven up a party like you.”

Loki starred at the Grandmaster for a while, his mouth slightly agape, taken aback by the sudden declaration. He really didn’t know how should he respond to that.

“Did you miss me too, sweet thing?” asked the Grandmaster, shaking him out of his state of stupefaction.

Loki pretended to ponder over that question for a moment, taping his finger against his lips.

“Ah, maybe a bit.” he stated eventually and smiled, hoping that the Grandmaster is in a mood for a little jest.

The Grandmaster burst out laughing, grabbed his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. Loki breathed a sigh of relief. As much as the Grandmaster demanded an absolute obedience, he also quickly grew bored of docile bootlickers, so it was good to spice things up with a light-hearted joke or two from time to time.

For a while they sat in silence, the Grandmaster playing with Loki’s fingers.

“Don’t you think, sweet pie,” the Grandmaster suddenly piped up. “Ah, don’t you think the spirit of the party quite sank? And I can’t let that happen! Oh, no! We have to liven up the atmosphere a little bit! Kitten, will you be so kind and make a nice show for us all? Maybe, ah, maybe with these two nice lads over there.” He pointed at the two hunky men sitting at the bar. “I’m sure they will be more than happy to help you with your show.”

Loki felt his stomach churn. He somewhat expected a proposition of this kind from a Grandmaster, sooner or later. He hoped it would rather be later. Maybe he’ll somehow manage to weasel himself out of this.

“I don’t think-” Loki stuttered. “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t-” The Grandmaster frowned, his lips twisted in displeasure. “I’m extremely exhausted today. You said it yourself that my well-being is rather fragile these days.”

Loki felt a slight pressure pressing down on his larynx. His throat tightened and he started having trouble with drawing a breath easily. The panic slowly crept up on him.

Suddenly the Grandmaster’s face brightened up. “Oh, my poor, delicate flower,” he cooed. “Yes, yes, of course. Ah, look at you, you’ve gotten so pale, I can clearly see you’re not feeling very well. Why don’t you, uh, just go back to your room and rest.”

Loki coughed, managed to mutter out his thanks and shakily stood up, the pressure around his neck subsiding a little. With a slight stagger, he returned to his room and laid on the bed. His throat tightened once again, this time much stronger, he started to choke. He touched his neck but there was nothing he could push away, nothing solid he could grab and move. He squirmed on a bed, legs kicking aimlessly. Just when his vision started to blacken, the pressure disappeared once again. He drew in a deep, shaky breath.

Maybe he’d managed to escape the humiliating show before the horny, drunken crowd, but instead he spent the rest of the night clawing at his throat, struggling for breath. He had no idea which one was worse.

 

***

 

Even during his first stay on Sakaar, Loki had to be extremely vigilant, constantly treading on a thin ice, minding his every step. The threat of death was always near, even one wrong move could quickly bring him to his early demise.

However, that threat had never been so close. So intimate. It seemed like his recent resurrection had a disastrous side effect. The Grandmaster gained a complete control over his body. The new life once given could be taken back at any given moment, he felt as if there was a sword constantly pressed against his neck, always ready to slit his throat in a matter of seconds.

He spent the past days choosing if he rather prefers to choke for the rest of the evening or play whatever humiliating game the Grandmaster wishes for the moment. He was caught between the rock and the hard place. Loki was overtaken with fear every time the Grandmaster opened his mouth, dreading whatever depraved idea might fall from his lips. Sometimes, he had to admit, it wasn’t so bad, it could be even nice. The other times, though… he shuddered at the mere thought of it.

Sometimes he couldn't even tell anymore, if the sudden constrictions of his throat were really caused by the Grandmaster, or if it all was of his own doing, his traumatized mind playing tricks on him and, triggered by the tiniest frown on the madman’s face, sending him into a fits of panic. Could be both.

It had to be both. He wasn’t paranoid, it was absolutely the kind of thing that fit the Grandmaster’s emploi perfectly. He hadn’t just imagined it all, he wasn’t going mad. Or at least madder than before.

And he had no slightest intention to spend the rest of his life as a puppet in the hands of a fickle madman, however long the Grandmaster wished his life to be.

 

***

 

The Grandmaster was busy with planning the next gladiator tournament, apparently _even more grand and remarkable_ than anything the Saakar has ever witnessed before, according to his words. On the party Loki had attended nobody paid him much attention either, everyone preoccupied with dancing, drinking and fucking.

Loki tucked three bottles of booze under his arm and teleported himself back to his bedroom. He lost his balance and landed face first on the floor, the bottles rolling in every direction, thankfully unbroken. He was already a bit tipsy and the sudden jump in space made his head spin even more.

He stood up, picked up all the bottles and sat on the bed. From his magical pocket he summoned the various drugs he collected and quite an impressive pile of rainbow-coloured pills appeared on his spread palm. He snatched as much various specifics as he could grab with both hands, focusing mostly on those with a particularly strong effect. The amount he collected should be a dose twice as great as that enough to kill an adult Asgardian. He hoped it’ll be also enough for a Jotun runt.

Loki swallowed all pills, one after another, washing them all down with alcohol. When he was done, he laid down on his back, laced his fingers and rested his hands on his belly, staring blankly at the ceiling. And patiently waited for the poison to start working.

It did not take long for the patterns on the ceiling to start swirling madly, the colours shimmering and changing like in a kaleidoscope. The whole room seemed to sway. His stomach churned dangerously, but he quickly cast a spell, while he still could, preventing him from throwing everything up. Soon his eyelids started to feel heavy, so he let his eyes close and slowly drifted off.

 

***

 

Loki opened his eyes and was greeted by the Grandmaster’s concerned frown. The man was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face hovering above Loki. His expression brightened up at the sight of Loki waking up.

“You really, uh, went on a spree last night, kitten,” said the Grandmaster. “It fills my heart with joy to see you enjoying yourself on my parties but, ah, you should be a little more careful, sweetheart. We almost lost you again.” The Grandmaster raked his fingers through Loki’s slightly tangled hair. “So soon after I’ve managed to bring you back.”

Ah, just great. What in the whole Nine Realms had made him think it might actually work. If the Grandmaster had no problem with resurrecting him after his neck got snapped, the simple overdose was a piece of cake to him. And not only his suicide attempt came to nothing, it also seemed like he completely failed to get his message across.

Clearly, he needed to try again. And this time make it painfully obvious.

 

***

 

Loki pondered briefly about hanging himself but quickly scrapped this plan. Surely, this act would leave no ambiguity, but when he imagined the rope tightening around his neck, his legs dangling helplessly above the ground, his spine snapping… There’s no way he’s going through that again. So he opted for something else entirely.

Loki slowly lowered himself into a huge, square, sunken bath, full of water, in the center of his luxury bathroom. He rolled up his sleeves. His arms were still covered in burn marks from the ropes that held him spread eagle, the reminders of the yesterday’s orgy where he served as the main attraction. Loki summoned one of his sharp daggers and slowly dragged the edge up his arm, cutting a long, deep, straight line, letting the blood trickle into the water.

It was no easy feat to bleed out someone of such a resilient race as his, especially an adult. Loki remembered one incident, a long time ago, when he was still a youngling, he almost bled himself out. But back then it was by an accident, though. He was collecting his own blood he deemed necessary for the spells he practised. If he maybe liked the slow drag of a knife on his skin a tad too much, he kept that to himself.

He’d just discovered a concoction that significantly slowed down the healing process, preventing the wounds from closing up too quickly, but he must have badly assessed the strength of the potion. When he started to feel light-headed, he desperately tried to close the deep gashes and stop the bleeding, but nothing seemed to work. With every drop of blood he grew weaker and weaker, his vision blurred.

It would be all over for him, if it wasn’t for Heimdall who raised the alarm and the royal healers managed to save him. He still remembered the look on his dear late mother’s face, full of worry, but underneath there lurked a great disappointment. She wasn’t too fond of his explanation, reminding him that a blood of the white forest troll worked just as well for the spells as the blood of the one who cast them and she was certain he knew that very well.

Now as Loki got much older, his body growing stronger, he supposed it won’t be so easy this time. Even with the wondrous concoction he still remembered how to make. He had to substitute a few ingredients, for their lack on this wretched planet, but he hoped it will still work.

He made two more cuts on his left hand and then carved another three on his right one. The droplets of blood streamed down his arms and fell into the water, slowly tinting it red. He sent his dagger away, leaned back against the wall of the bath and closed his eyes. Now all he had to do was to wait.

Loki felt his heart rate increase slightly, his breath getting shallow. It didn’t last long, though. Soon he felt the wounds starting to close and his heart beat stabilized. He quickly reopened the cuts, not wanting to recover too much, but again his not cooperating body, though slightly weakened, managed to handle the injuries.

He cursed under his breath. Clearly this method won’t work anymore. Loki opted for something more severe. He firmly grabbed the dagger with both hands and put the edge to his neck. He stayed like this for a moment, cold metal pressed against his neck, then took a deep breath and with one sure swift motion he slit his throat. Blood gushed out of the wound and trickled down his chest and arms. He only heard the water splash as the dagger slipped from his hands, before the darkness swallowed him whole.

 

***

 

Once again he woke up on the bed in his room. Is that what the MIdgardians call a _deja vu_?

The Grandmaster was pacing back and forth, his sandals scraping softly across the floor. Loki slowly sat up and the Grandmaster stopped for a moment, giving him disgruntled look, only to start pacing again.

Loki looked down at his forearms. As he expected, there was no sign of wounds here, not even a tiny scar. He touched his neck with the tip of his fingers, feeling for any trace of scarring there, but he found no line of raised skin there either. Once again he was as good as new.

The Grandmaster stopped and looked at Loki, his mouth open as if he wanted to finally say something, but after a second he closed it shut with a click and started pacing again. He didn’t seem overly happy with the whole trouble of resurrecting Loki yet one more time. Loki started to fiddle nervously with his hands, bracing himself for the worst.

“I am upset,” said the Grandmaster finally and stopped. “You’ve made me very, very upset, Lolo. And disappointed. I am capable of almost everything you can and can not imagine… But I am completely clueless here. I- I can’t comprehend why you- I went through all that hassle to find you, after you run away like a foul, little rogue. I swept the vast expanses of the whole universe - which wasn’t that easy, mind you - and then I granted you a new life. And you just tossed it all away. Like it’s nothing. Like you don’t care. Does it really mean so little to you? Do I mean so little?”

Loki stared down at red spot he’d managed to scratch out at the center of his palm. This was ridiculous. He felt like a disobedient child chided by a parent.

“This is simply hurtful, Lolo.” the Grandmaster continued. “So hurtful. Like a slap across the face. Do you realize that? Did you even take one, single, tiny moment to think how deeply your selfish behaviour might hurt me?” He sighed and pinched the top of his nose. “Have you ever been told that you’re ungrateful?”

Ah, isn’t that just exactly what Odin would say? Wasn’t that just great? Truly splendid. Loki couldn’t say he missed their little talks and this conversation with the Grandmaster dangerously steered in that direction. It suddenly occurred to Loki that the All-Father had also granted him a new life he didn’t ask for. It made him feel sick.

Loki got out of the bed and stood in front of the Grandmaster. “Excuse me, Grandmaster,” he said, bowing his head lightly, “but I’m not certain if it’s possible to be ungrateful for a favour I’ve never asked for in the first place.”

“Well, you said it yourself, honey, you didn't even have to ask for it. You didn’t have to beg. I just, ah, magnanimously decided to grant you that favour. And now you repay me like this.” The Grandmaster sighed loudly. “I just don’t understand why- ah, why you waste your time like that when there’s so many wonderful things to do, definitely much better than trying to kill yourself. Why don’t you put that whole energy into dancing? I thought you love dancing. And music. You see, life is for enjoying simple things. Like dancing. Or food! Let’s not forget about the food.”

Oh, surely it would be much easier to do, if he didn’t live in a constant fear, Loki thought bitterly.

“And, sweetie, let’s not forget we’re on a planet where you can fulfill your heart’s wildest desires! Where you can, ah, give in to the various pleasures of the flesh with no shame spoiling the whole experience.”

In practice, it was rather much more like fulfilling the Grandmaster’s wildest desires.

“And you? You just lock yourself in a bathroom and _die_.” The Grandmaster looked so greatly offended, that if this whole situation wasn’t driving Loki mad, he would have probably found that comical. “Listen, sweet pie, we have only one life- Well, you have more, thanks to my good heart. But this can’t go on forever. You really need to learn to appreciate life, Lolo.”

“You can’t make me.” Loki hissed through his teeth, clenching his fist tightly.

He was seething, his frustration reaching a peak high. He had an irresistible urge to destroy something. Preferably the Grandmaster. But he knew he hardly possessed that much power to do so, he could just as well run himself into a wall. He felt so powerless and he hated it so much.

Loki turned quickly on his heel, run out of the room onto the balcony and with no hesitation jumped over the railing. He didn’t fall too far, before he felt something tug at his body. With a whip-crack sound he materialized back in the bedroom, right below the ceiling, and landed safely on the soft bed.

The Grandmaster tutted at him. “Sweetheart, it’s really high here. You should be more careful when you go out on the balcony.”

“Don’t act as if you don’t know what were my intentions.” Loki spat out.

The Grandmaster sat on the bed besides him. “Oh, I’m perfectly aware.” He pushed away a loose strand of hair from Loki’s forehead and tucked it behind his ear. “And I’ll warn you again, honey, _be careful_.”

 

***

 

The Grandmaster eventually will get bored with resurrecting him time and time again. Soon he’ll realize that his amusing kitten, once a life of a party, turned irreversibly into a hopeless, suicidal bore that is no longer of any use to him. Loki just had to keep trying and be patient.

There was a new visitor on Sakaar. Purple skin, long green hair, a head taller than the Grandmaster. A long snake tail instead of the legs and a reptilian face, just two holes in the place of the nose. And she really caught the Grandmaster’s eye.

And there he was, completely forgotten, serving as a wallflower, tossed aside like an old toy. The Grandmaster didn’t even deign a single look in Loki’s direction since the party started, too busy with familiarizing with his new guest. He kept a hand on the small of her back and talked, gesturing wildly, the reptilian woman giggling from time to time. Loki took a large gulp of his fancy blue drink. As much as he wanted to get away from the Grandmaster, he couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy at the sight. It was such a silly thing, he knew how things worked here, but still he couldn’t stop himself, forever hungry for attention. So pathetic.

Still, the current situation could play to his advantage. He looked at the open glass door leading to the balcony, just a few feet away from him. If the Grandmaster was so busy, he had a chance to repeat his interrupted suicide attempt. It won’t hurt to try again.

He downed the rest of his drink and dropped the glass, letting it shatter on the floor, not even bothering to find a proper place to put it aside. A few people standing nearest tossed a glance in his direction, but the Grandmaster’s eyes were still glued to that vile reptile. Good.

He went onto the balcony. The wind was blowing his hair about, so he tucked the loose strands behind his ear. He leant against the railing and looked at the street down below. It was really high up there. Maybe this time it might actually work. Will the Grandmaster be able to even do anything, when the only thing left of him will be a wet, red patch on a concrete?

He slowly put his legs over the railing and stood on the other side, holding the banister tightly. He turned his head and threw one last glance in the Grandmaster’s direction. The old bastard was standing with his back to him. Great. He also noticed a small group of gawkers gathered by the door, staring at him intently, clearly enjoying the show. Loki couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. He looked down one more time. The ground seemed so far away, but he felt no fear, the fact that he could see the place he will land on actually comforted him. It was his assurance that he won’t be falling forever, so long and so far that the time and space will lose their meaning altogether. He moved his gaze up, throwing one last glance at the hundreds of wormholes gleaming in the distance on the dark sky. Then he let go of the railing, slowly leant forward and let the gravity take care of the rest.

 

***

 

He woke up and coughed up blood. His head, back and chest were in a searing pain, he doubted there was even a single bone intact in his whole body. Underneath his cracked skull he felt a wet puddle, possibly of his own blood. He felt worse than after his close encounter with the Hulk.

Loki opened his eyes slowly. His vision was a little bit blurry, but he could make out the silhouettes of the gawking passers-by circled above him. After a while it dawned on him that he couldn’t feel his legs.

The crowd parted to let in two Grandmaster’s guards. They grabbed him by his arms and roughly manhandled him back to the tower, his paralysed feet dragging on the ground. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning pathetically the whole way up as his poor, battered body flared up with pain at every tiniest jerk.

The Grandmaster was waiting for him in his bedroom. The guards tossed him carelessly on the bed and marched out of the room. Loki fell into another fit of coughing, sputtering blood over his chin. The Grandmaster winced with disgust and walked closer, stopping by the edge of the bed.

“Enjoyed your little flight, sweetheart?” asked the Grandmaster. “Tell me, kitten, why are you- uh, why are you so stubborn?”

Loki could only give a small, pitiful whine.

He heard a few light knocks and the door to his bedroom opened. A tall, long limbed creature walked in, carrying a large suitcase.

“Oh, oh, darling, you’ve arrived just on time,” the Grandmaster greeted her and summoned her nearer with a wave of his hand. “This, uh,” he gestured at Loki, “is your patient. He lately found himself a new, very peculiar hobby. As you can see, a one rather unfavorable for his health. Of course I warned him, I, ah, I told him it won’t end up well for him, but did he listen? No. So if you could somehow,” he waved his hand, “put my unruly pet back together, it would be nice.”

The weird creature, the healer, as it would seem, started to examine Loki’s body. A creamy white, flat face hovered above him, it was almost featureless, spare for a thin, dark slit in the place of the eyes. Loki’s eyesight was still a bit blurry, but he suspected it was just a very creepy mask.

The healer’s long, gangly fingers prodded roughly at his body, feeling up all the broken bones and digging into his bruised flesh, the Grandmaster observing everything from the side. She took off all his clothes, with a help of a knife, and flipped him over onto his stomach, his cracked ribs not very happy about that decision, and started to put his vertebra in their proper places, not bothering with any kind of analgesic. Loki clenched his teeth tightly but couldn’t hold back his screams for long, his voice joining the symphony of crunching and cracking bones.

When she was content with the shape of his spine, she reached into her suitcase and rummaged for a while. Then Loki heard the tell-tale sound of a drill. It turned out he needed a metal frame to hold his spine together while it healed. Loki was certain that the less primitive methods were also available, but the Grandmaster forbade to employ them.

Loki drifted off and on during the whole procedure, too exhausted to even scream anymore. He absent-mindedly noted that another splints got drilled to his ribs too.

He regained his consciousness again when the healer was in the middle of stitching his wounds. The light prick of a needle was a blessing compared to the pain of the bolts screwed into his bones. It looked like the worst was behind him now.

Loki dozed off for a moment, but the loud footsteps approaching his bed woke him up. He got dragged out of the bed by the guards. They hauled him into the bathroom and threw him into a bath filled with water. He quickly sunk right to the bottom like stone, all the metal junk in his body weighing him down. He barely had any strength to even twitch his finger, let alone push himself up above the surface. He was quickly getting out of breath. The healer went through all that hassle of putting his bones back together and now they’re just going to let him drown?

The guards finally figured out that he can’t move and pulled him up. Just to push him down again. He was tossed around the bath like a rag. He only had short moments to draw a breath and a one mistimed attempt filled his lungs with water. He started choking. They were really going to drown him. He couldn’t breathe, he coughed but it didn’t help at all. His lungs burned. The guards kept pushing him under the surface, even more water got in his lungs. Oh, Norns, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe…

He got dragged up, one of the guards put his arms around his chest and squeezed. His ribs creaked dangerously but it helped him cough out all the water. They carried him back to the room, still soaking wet, and threw him on bed. At least in the meantime the bedsheets got changed.

“Oh, be more careful!” the Grandmaster reprimanded the guards. “He’s taken, ah, quite a nasty fall recently.”

Loki had to roll his eyes at the fake act of concern. However, the Grandmaster thankfully sent the guards away.

It was too soon to relax, though. The healer approached his bed with a contraption that looked like… a neck brace. He wheezed loudly in protest. He surely didn’t need that. What sense did it make to put in on now, after he got manhandled like that in the bath. If he somehow survived that kind of treatment, then he certainly didn’t need to wear a neck brace in the damned bed.

He started weakly tossing his head around and clawed at the healer’s hands when she was putting the collar on, but it did little to stop her. The brace closed snugly around his neck, pressing uncomfortably on his throat. It was too tight. He coughed a few times. He tried to take as large gulps of air as he could, but it was difficult when his chest ached with every breath. His shallow breaths became more rapid. His throat felt so tight. He was going to choke. Neither the healer nor the Grandmaster moved to loosen the collar even a little bit. They just watched him struggle to breathe. The insistent ringing filled up his ears. His vision started to blur and he saw spots before his eyes. He was going to die.

 

***

 

Thanos’ huge, square face was split by a wide grin. Loki’s feet dangled helplessly in the air. Large, purple fingers tightened around his neck and he wheezed. A dozen of long, transparent needles pierced his chest and he heard Ebony Maw chuckle. He felt the needles sunk deeper and deeper into his flesh...

He woke up, alone, the neck brace still weighing down on his throat. His hands shot up to his neck, he clumsily fumbled with the clasps and the damned collar fell off. He took in a deep breath. His bruised ribs prickled at the sudden expanding of his chest. With a whine, he slowly exhaled.

Still, Loki had to admit he felt much better now. He only felt a dull ache in his bones, the stabbing pain thankfully gone. If he breathed evenly, the discomfort in his chest was manageable.

He was still naked but covered with a thin sheet. He threw the covers off and looked down at his battered body. The usually pale and white skin took on an ugly green and purple hue, his torso was a one big bruise.

Loki still couldn’t feel his legs. He reached down and pinched the skin on his thigh. It was so surreal. He could clearly see the legs connected to the rest of his body, but it did not feel like they belonged to him at all. He kept picking at the flesh, scratching off the layers of the tissue, until he gouged out a small hole in skin. Still nothing.

Though, he couldn’t be certain the rest of his body really belonged to him either. He moved to one of his forearms and pinched. He could feel a light prickle of his fingernails, but it still felt vaguely unreal.

Was this body really his? When it just kept on betraying him like this, again and again? It had always irked him with the way it could never keep up with his mind, forcing him to take breaks from his work, even though his mind was brimming with ideas. It had constantly interrupted him with its never ending demands for sleep and sustenance, when he had much better things to do. And with its improper carnal desires. Though, maybe this one should share the blame with his mind… And as if that wasn’t enough, one day it has finally uncovered it’s ugliest secret. A skin of a monster.

He roused himself from his thoughts. There were several small gashes marring his forearm. He held up a hand and examined the blood that gathered underneath the fingernails.

 

***

 

He slowly regained the feeling in his legs. The numbness had turned into a prickling pain which slowly faded into a normal sensation.

The Grandmaster arrived to his room with the healer. His bones managed to knit together and she needed to pull out the metal frame from his body. Now, that his vision was good back again, he could clearly see that there was no mask on the healers face. There was only one, spindle-like, entirely black eye at the center of flat expanse of skin. That also explained why he’d never heard the creature speak.

The healer set herself to work. She didn’t anaesthetize him this time either, but he hadn’t the slightest intention to go through the whole procedure conscious. He quickly cast a sleeping spell over himself and he hoped it was strong enough to endure the whole surgery. He heard the Grandmaster start talking but his voice felt so far away and he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of any words. Loki’s heavy eyelids slid shut and the Grandmaster’s voice dispersed into silence.

The darkness was pulled away from him like a curtain and he saw a displeased face of the Grandmaster.

“Hey, hey, it’s very rude to just fall asleep when someone is trying to talk to you, you know.”

 _Grandmaster had better tell that to Odin._ Loki couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled in his chest, but soon it turned into a long whine as the healer sunk a scalpel into his flesh.

“I apologize, Grandmaster,” Loki said after the pain subsided a little. “But I had nobody to set a good example back in my home.”

The Grandmaster didn’t seem to fully grasp the meaning of his words, but he just waved his hand and continued his little lecture.

“So, uh, as I was saying, you probably wonder why this time you didn’t just wake up in your bed in a pristine condition. You see, sweet pie, of course I could just snap my wondrous fingers once again and-”

The drill drowned out his words. The Grandmaster paused for a while and waited until the healer finished pulling out the bolts from his rib.

“Where was I- ah, right, my wondrous fingers. I could just snap them once again and heal all your injuries in, uh, a blink of an eye. But you know what, sweetie? You don’t deserve that. Why should I bother if you can’t appreciate all my hard work, honey? Do you know how much power is needed to bring back a life? To tear it from the clasps of nothingness? You don’t. That’s why...”

“Oh, I’m sure for someone as omnipotent as you,” Loki hissed through teeth clenched in pain, “all the needed power is but a mere drop in the ocean of possibility.”

The Grandmaster huffed.

“Firstly, don’t you ever dare to interrupt me, you little twat. How many times-” He paused abruptly and took a deep breath to cool off a little. “Secondly, it doesn’t change my point that I see no sense in using even this, as you correctly stated, small, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny bit of power, if you’re not going to appreciate it properly! Tell me, sweetie, why should I- why should I waste my powers, no matter what amount, on someone so, ah, infinitely thankless? So I wanted to show you how much effort it takes to bring back a life. I wanted you feel that with every tiniest cell of your body. And maybe then, maybe, you’ll finally grow wiser a bit.”

 

***

 

Yes. Indeed. Loki did everything wrong all this time. But it’s time to learn.

All his suicide attempts failed because the Grandmaster still had a body he can resurrect. It seemed like he needed to die in such a way that left behind no corpse. The first thing that came to his mind was to get eaten. If his flesh will get digested in some creature’s entrails, there would be really nothing the Grandmaster could do about it, right? Oh Norns, Loki really hoped the Grandmaster didn’t possess the ability to resurrect someone from the faeces. Still worth trying, though.

If Loki was to become someone’s food, the best way to go were the trash piles surrounding the city. The scavengers surely will be more than eager to help him to carry out his plan. After all it doesn’t happen often that the food willingly offers itself.

It didn’t take him long to find a group of his potential consumers and, as soon as he spotted them, he run there quickly.

“Your food has arrived!” he announced himself, spreading his arms wide.

The scavengers seemed to be taken aback by his declaration and shot each other a questioning glances, but a moment later they just shrugged and started approaching him.

“Wait!” one of them shouted, halting the whole group. “This pretty face seems familiar…” They all stared at him for a while.

“Oh shit, you’re right,” said the other one. “He looks like Grandmaster’s beloved pet.”

“Just great. The only time the food finds us instead of the other way round, we can’t eat it!”

“Wait… what?” This time it was Loki who become stupefied. “Why can’t you eat me? I assure you, I’m very tasty.”

“Oh let’s not exaggerate, you don’t look _that_ tasty.”

“Yeah, he’s kinda scrawny.” another scavenger chimed in.

“I mean, we rarely turn down any occasion to eat, but, honestly, you’re definitely not tasty enough to risk melting.”

Oh. Well, Loki definitely did not take that under the consideration.

“So that’s a no?” he asked. All the scavengers quickly nodded. “And you’re absolutely sure? No chance of changing your minds?” They all nodded again.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. This is absolutely ridiculous. He never ever in his whole life expected it would be so hard to find someone willing to eat him. Especially on Sakaar.

He teleported himself back to his rooms in the tower. A pain shot through his not yet entirely healed spine and he let out a grunt, massaging his lower back with one hand.

Suddenly he got another idea. What about the beasts the Grandmaster keeps in the dungeons and uses for the fights in the arena? They were already enslaved and had a very good chance of dying almost every day anyway. It’s not like their situation can get drastically worse because of eating the Grandmaster’s favourite.

He set out to the dungeons, on foot this time, as the teleportation tended to painfully stretch his sensitive spine. He stopped in front of a glass cage full of big, monstrous, hopefully very hungry creatures. All beasts stared at him intently.

“Hey you!” he shouted, pointing at a huge, red, scaly creature with big jaws full of big, sharp teeth. “Do you want to eat me?”

“Uh, sorry,” the beast gurgled. “I have no tongue.”

“I beg your pardon? I don’t understand how it would get in the way of you eating me? Does it really matter if you have all these sharp teeth?”

The red beast gaped at him for a while. “Maybe I don’t know how that works but… uh… you really want me to eat you out?”

“What? Oh! No, no! Not like that, oh Norns… I mean eat me, like a food. I want to be your food.”

This just seemed to bewilder the red beast even more. “A food? Eat you like a food?”

“Yeah, I seem to have… a little bit of a trouble with dying. You see, you’re trapped in this huge glass cage, but my cage is far more refined. It’s my own body.” At his statement the eyes of the already confused beast only grew bigger. ”And for the past few weeks I’ve been desperately trying to escape it. Unsuccessfully, as you could surely guess. So I’ve recently figured out that getting rid of any trace of my corpse, as soon as possible, might give me a greater chance to succeed. And I’m sure I’m far more nutritious than anything you get fed on down here.”

The red beast shook his square head in disbelief. “Dude, you’re so fucking high.”

“No, you don’t understand! I need to die! And I’m not high, I swear. Alright, maybe I am indeed a bit high. But I can assure you, I won’t change my mind after I’ll sober up. I’m pretty set on my decision.” Loki put his hands on the glass wall and looked at the beast imploringly. “I want to die. I’m sure. Please, eat me.”

All the monsters looked at each other, silently questioning his proposition.

“I would be careful, Gim,” said a green lizard-like beast huddled in a corner. “If he really has all these troubles with dying and he’s not even certain that eating him will work out, how can you be sure he won’t still be alive inside your stomach? This just sounds like a recipe for some serious digestive ailments. I wouldn’t risk.”

“Oh, I simply can’t believe it!” Loki threw up his hands in the air in exasperation. “Why is it so hard to get yourself eaten?!”

“All you buggers up there,” hissed a furry beast with big, curved horns. “All of you totally lost your marbles from all that booze and drugs.”

“And orgies,” gurgled the red beast, Gim. “Don’t forget the crazy-ass orgies. Geez, if even half of those rumours are true…”

Loki sighed deeply. He couldn’t stand that any longer and, without a second thought, teleported himself back to his rooms, the pain quickly making him regret his impulsive decision. He moaned and laid on the floor in a supine position.

 

***

 

Alright, so be it. A death by burning then. Loki’s going to set himself on fire and all that will be left of him would be a pathetic little pile of ashes. He’s going to make himself his own funeral pyre. A proper ceremony that has been denied him over the past few years. First by Thanos, then by his brother, though he could imagine Thor simply didn’t have time for that on Svartalfheimr, and finally by the Grandmaster. It’s about time for him to grant himself this privilege and do what should be done a long time ago.

He dressed himself in a few long, loose tunics and wrapped in a cape. He wasn’t going to use ordinary flames but a magically enhanced ones that didn’t extinguish so easily and were able to ravage any type of material.

He stood at the center of his room and flicked the spell on with a snap of his fingers. The flames sparkled to life by his feet and slowly crawled up the cape, swallowing him whole. The heat quickly reached his skin and his flesh started to sizzle. A scream tore from his lungs. It’s alright. Soon all will be over. He just needed to endure this little bit of pain. He’s going to escape this cursed body and finally get across to the other side. And rest. It was right there, within his arms reach. He just needed to hold on just for a moment longer.

The flames feasted on his body, the clothes already burned away. But his flesh didn’t seem to disperse much. Something was wrong. Something was so very _wrong_. It seemed as if his body regenerated at the same pace as it got burned away. The flesh drifted away with a smoke, but immediately the fresh cells filled its place.

Loki needed to stop this now or he’s going to burn for eternity. He shakily flicked his wrist, but the flames did not disperse. He tried again. Nothing. A panic bubbled up in his chest. Someone was fiddling with his magic.

_Grandmaster._

He needed to somehow stop this. He threw himself on the floor and started to roll around, but the flames didn’t diminish even a little. All he succeeded was setting the fluffy carpet on fire. He ran to the bathroom and tried to turn on the tap in the bath, but the metal just melted in his hand.

_Oh, Norns, what should he do? What can he do?_

Pool. He needed to get to the pool.

He rushed to the grand hall where most of the parties were hosted. There was a huge, rotund pool at the center. He speeded through the corridors, setting random things along his way on fire, the screams of unlucky passers-by echoing in the distance. He reached the huge door, threw himself at them and fell into the empty ballroom. He quickly got up and dashed to the pool. He jumped inside… but all the water just evaporated.

He fell to his knees and screamed with despair. He looked up towards the skies, lifting his hands high up in the air. He called for his mother to help him. He begged his brother to send him rain. He prayed to the Norns to have some mercy and cut the golden thread of his life. He asked the stars to finally claim his tormented soul. Nobody answered. He slumped with resignation.

The fire was the sole reality. The flames licked at his flesh relentlessly, the pain piercing him right to the marrow of his bones. He was breathing fire, his chest burning from the inside. His brain was boiling. The fire was everything. And the fire will stay with him. Forever. All the stars are going to burn out, but he’ll still be there. The only shining beacon in the dark, cold universe.

“Oh, oh, look at that,” cooed the Grandmaster. “My poor, little kitten.” The sandalled feet appeared before Loki and he looked up at the Grandmaster. “What in the world have you done this time?”

The Grandmaster shook his head and tutted, took off his golden robe and covered Loki, putting out the flames.

 

***

 

Loki was slowly healing. The scarring on his aching skin was fading gradually, the wrinkled, pink tissue paling and smoothing out more and more with every hour. His eyelids had regenerated and his hair started to grow back, already reaching down to his jawline. Every breath still prickled his lungs and swallowing was a big trouble. But it was still a huge improvement.

Right after the burning his whole body was one, big open wound. He was yet again visited by the healer, who tightly wrapped him up in bandage, from head to toe, leaving only two small slits for his eyes and mouth. She also crammed a metal tube down his windpipe once a day, to suck out the discharge that collected inside his burned lungs.

Right now he felt better and the pain was definitely less intense but it was still there. And the Grandmaster had suddenly cut him off from any sedatives and painkillers. This was absolutely ridiculous, he was writhing in pain on a planet with great abundance of various mind-altering substances.

The Grandmaster visited his bedroom this evening. He was glad to see Loki’s hair getting longer. For most of the time the Grandmaster just rambled on casually, hanging about the room. Loki remained silent and only nodded from time to time.

“You know, Lolo,” The Grandmaster suddenly changed the subject. “I heard the cute, little prayers you made when you were, ah, burning like a torch in the middle of my pool. You called for your mummy, for Sparkles, for, uh, Norns, whatever these are, _even_ for the stars. But, not even once, you called for _me_. You really wound me, Lolo. You really wound my poor, ancient heart. So deeply.”

Loki reminded himself of his nagging issue with the drugs. Maybe there was a chance to placate the Grandmaster. It seemed like he just had to swallow his pride and beg for these, maybe that will somehow satisfy the madman.

“Excuse me, Grandmaster,” he said, his voice dreadfully hoarse. Every smallest sound seemed to burn his throat.

“Oh, dear,” said the Grandmaster. “Your voice sounds as if you’ve just swallowed the whole bucket of nails. But, hopefully, it’ll pass soon, sweet thing.”

Loki braced himself and continued. “I’m afraid you deprived me of the drugs too soon, it seems I’ve not fully healed yet and my whole skin still hurts unbearably.”

“Too soon? Well, to be entirely honest with you, it wasn’t my idea, sweetheart. Your doctor told me to do so.”

“My doctor? Told you?” Loki croaked. “She can’t even speak!”

The Grandmaster laughed softly. “Ah, sweetie, just because you can’t hear her, it doesn’t mean she can’t speak. Oh, believe me, honey, Cynthia is quite a chatty lady. Anyway, she said your body is in such a poor condition, that it would not be able to, ah, withstand the strain of poisoning it with various substances.”

“I don’t really see the problem here. If the drugs would really depart me from this life, you could just snap your miraculous fingers and give me a new one.”

The Grandmaster looked genuinely offended by his suggestion. “Kitten, I- ah, I’m afraid you don’t really understand how things work here. Who do you think me to be? A wishing well? Your own personal goldfish? You do all these awful, hurtful things and then you just have the audacity to _demand_ things from me like that? Demand from me to cater to your every smallest whim? If you had only been grateful for everything I do for you, sweetheart. But no, all I hear are constant complaints and blatant ingratitude.” The Grandmaster shook his head in disbelief. “Lolo, I am patient. Most of the times I even tend to be kind-hearted. But this? This is just too much. You don’t even know how much it breaks my poor, poor, ancient heart…” The Grandmaster suddenly chuckled darkly, braking his act momentarily.

Apparently even he wasn’t able to say those blatant lies with a straight face. Loki was certain that in reality the Grandmaster was far from heartbroken, instead having the time of his life. Why else would he bother with resurrecting Loki again and again, if it didn’t amuse him to no end?

“Look at you,” Loki rasped out. “Even you can’t buy your own lies.”

“Oh, oh, don’t be so harsh, darling. You have to admit, it was truly an award-winning performance.” The Grandmaster laughed softly. “Well, ah, aren’t we two quite similar in that matter, kitten. We both love to weave those intricate webs of lies, put on the various masks, the various acts of false pretence… But the difference between us is that you, sugar, you want so desperately to believe in all the lies you tell. Me? I don’t really care much at all, as long as everyone else plays along.”

The Grandmaster laughed some more and wiped the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly he took a deep breath and collected himself, his face becoming stern once again.

“So where were we… Ah, right, the mutual benefits. I do all these things for you, but, ah, what do I gain from you? How do you repay me? What do you _give me_ in return for my kindness?”

“The best entertainment in the history of Sakaar?”

The Grandmaster’s frowned face cracked and he snorted with laughter. “Alright, honey bun, you got me there. You, ah, really, really got me. Well, let’s not exaggerate with the whole ‘best in history’, but I admit, it’s quite fun, yes. Especially your little visit to my fighters. Oh, if you could only see your face.” He giggled at the memory. “You know, even the bets are made for what method of suicide you’re gonna choose next. From what I’ve seen, the current most popular prediction is death by hanging, but they all know nothing about you, sweetheart, they are all so utterly stupid.”

“Have you made a bet too?”

“Of course.”

“And would you be so kind to share your assumptions with me?”

“Ah, let that remain my sweet, little secret.”

“Why? Aren’t you tempted to tell me, so you could suggest me my next move and assure your win?”

The Grandmaster laughed softly. “Oh, sweetie, don’t you- ah, don’t you worry your pretty head about that.” He patted the top of Loki’s head, making him wince with pain. “I’m sure I’m gonna win anyway. I always win.”

 

***

 

Later that night, Loki had left the safe confines of his bedroom for the first time in days (weeks?) and sneaked out to the party downstairs. Fine, if the Grandmaster didn’t want to give him any drugs, he would get them himself.

He entered the great hall where the party took place. The loud music pricked his ears and the low thrum of bass vibrated through his aching body uncomfortably, twisting his entrails inside out. He had to squint his eyes, the bright, blinking lights dazzling him, everything only worsening his migraine. He stumbled half-blindly through the room, painfully bumping into various dancing creatures, snatched the first pills he could find and quickly returned to his room.

Loki decided to be careful, Grandmaster’s warning at the back of his mind, and only took one pill, hoping it will be enough to soothe the pain, but not enough to severely worsen his frail health.

He spent the rest of the night on the floor of the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet, the acid burning his tender throat. The substance had no time to fully get into his body and the migraine kept on splitting his skull, his skin still hurting at every tiniest touch.

 

***

 

On the surface everything seemed to be alright. There was no trace of burn marks on his skin anymore. But he was still suffering inconceivably, his whole body over-sensitive. Just as if all that agonizing pain had seared itself permanently into his flesh.

Every breath was a struggle. He felt as if he was breathing pins and sand instead of air. He was compelled to keep his hair short, not being able to stand the way the long locks tickled the skin on his neck. At first he tried to keep them tied in a bun, but it just pulled on his scalp unbearably. He also put on a spell to create a thin sheet of air in between his body and his clothing, because the material rubbed painfully on his skin with his every smallest move. Walking was a pure torture, he felt as if he stepped on the sharp tips of the knives every time he set his foot on the floor. Not to even mention the pure agony of sitting or, Norns forbid, laying down. He had resigned himself to just levitating a few inches above the ground, floating around like a ghost.

He caught his blurry reflection in one of the huge wall to wall windows in his bedroom. He truly made a sorry sight, with his sunken cheeks, his pale, ashen skin and dark circles under his dull eyes.

Honestly, he wasn’t really that far from becoming a real ghost. He could feel the constant presence of death lurking just around the corner, but there was always something that kept him just a tad out of her arms reach.

The days blurred into one, the constant use of magic, to keep himself above the ground all the time, draining his already scarce reserves of power. He started to have a fainting spells from all the strain and exhaustion, blacking out for a moment, only for the pain to wake him up abruptly. He always quickly lifted himself from the floor with magic and floated until the next faint.

Soon after he had no power left even for so little. He woke up from yet another black out, but couldn’t raise himself up any more. Neither with magic nor by the strength of his muscles. He could just lay on the floor and whine quietly.

That was when the Grandmaster finally decided to grace him with a visit. Quite some time had passed since the last time Loki had seen him.

Somehow Loki found some strength in him to get up on his knees and crawl to the Grandmaster.

“Please, Grandmaster,” Loki croaked weakly. “Please, I can’t… I can’t take it anymore. Just stop this all. I don’t care how. Just end my suffering. End my life. I don’t demand, I merely beg you for your mercy.”

The Grandmaster remained silent, his impassive face unreadable.

“What use do you have of me now?” Loki tried again. “When I’m but half-dead. In this state I can’t even do anything to entertain you. All I’m doing nowadays is laying on the floor, moaning pathetically. That’s quite boring, isn’t it?”

When the Grandmaster still didn't deign him with any reply, he desperately grabbed the front of his golden robes and clung to it like to a life line.

“Grandmaster, please,” he croaked, choking on his sobs. “Please, have some mercy and kill me. Or let me live. Just don’t leave me like this, hanging in between life and death for eternity.”

The tears streamed down his face, burning his over-sensitive cheeks like acid. With a cry he let go of the Grandmaster’s robes and tried to wipe the tears away, but all that rubbing only made everything worse. He howled and fell down on the floor, writhing in pain.

The Grandmaster crouched next to him and reached out to wipe the tears off his face. Loki flinched back instinctively, but when the Grandmaster’s hand made a contact with his skin, it didn’t hurt at all. Loki let out a soft whimper. The Grandmaster caressed his cheeks with the back of his fingers, his hand like cooling salve on a heated skin. Loki leaned into the touch, overwhelmed with the sudden relief. He needed more. He grabbed the Grandmaster’s hand, putting the whole palm to his face, and moaned with pleasure. The Grandmaster gently cupped his face, rubbing his cheek with the thumb.

“Shhh, it’s alright, sweetheart.” the Grandmaster soothed him.

Loki, desperate for more, threw himself at the Grandmaster, flinging his hands around his neck, and held on to him tightly. He heard the Grandmaster make a surprised yelp, but soon he felt two strong arms embrace him and pull him closer. All the aches and tension left him and he drew in a deep breath, finally with ease. He slowly exhaled, melting into Grandmaster’s arms, and sobbed with relief. Cradled safely in the strong arms, he quickly dozed off.

 

***

 

Loki woke up from a peaceful, dreamless sleep to the soothing, steady thrum of a heart beat. He was in his bed, tugged closely to the Grandmaster’s side, with his head resting on Grandmaster’s chest.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said the Grandmaster and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve been out for- ah, can’t tell you exactly how long, you know time’s a bit weird here, but definitely really long. You slept like a baby. Feeling better now, sweetie?”

Loki indeed hadn’t slept that well since… He couldn't even remember. For a long time he’s been suffering from more or less severe insomnia, even the recent few years of posing as Odin on Asgard, though rather peaceful, didn’t bring him fully restful nights. And today’s sleep was definitely a drastic improvement from the brief blackouts interrupted by the bouts of pain that made up his whole reality for the last few days. The Grandmaster’s presence did wonders on his wrecked, aching body. And as much as he hated this, he was also infinitely grateful. He couldn’t quite believe the rapid shift in Grandmaster’s mood, the sudden act of mercy, so vastly different from the cold cruelty.

“Yes, thank you,” Loki mumbled out. ”You really stayed with me the whole time I was asleep?”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” The Grandmaster swatted him lightly on his back. “I don’t have time to just lay and do nothing all day. I have a planet to rule. Games to play. Disobedient pets to melt. And besides that, ah, it would be just plain boring. Don’t get me wrong, honey bun, you look disarmingly cute when you’re asleep… but in the long run it’s, uh, as interesting as watching the drying paint.”

If the Grandmaster wasn’t here all this time, then it seemed like Loki wouldn’t have to spend the rest of life desperately glued to his body. Would that mean that the Grandmaster had finally let him heal permanently? Or at least for as long as the Grandmaster was content with him. Loki didn’t even dare to hope that the Grandmaster couldn't just reverse everything with a snap of his fingers.

They laid in silence for a while, Grandmaster’s fingers lazily drawing patterns on his back. His skin was still extremely sensitive, but now in a good way. His body seemed to be starved for the touch that didn’t feel unpleasant anymore. And he craved more so badly.

With a frustrated whine he sat up abruptly and straddled the Grandmaster. “Norns, I need your hands on me. Now.” The Grandmaster’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh, oh, so eager. Good, good…”

The Grandmaster’s hands slipped under his thin tunic and Loki shivered from the sudden skin to skin contact. It felt so intense. Grandmaster’s hand moved up Loki’s body to play with his nipple, circling it slowly with one finger and then pinching it hard. A loud moan escaped from Loki’s lips and he rolled his hips to get some friction. The Grandmaster put his other hand on the nape of Loki’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. Loki’s lips parted slightly with a gasp and the Grandmaster quickly used this to slip his tongue inside his mouth. The kiss felt searing hot, but Loki wished it never stopped. The Grandmaster weaved fingers into Loki’s hair and tugged lightly, eliciting another moan from him. Loki was so overwhelmed, he felt it won’t take much more to make him come. He reached down with one hand to rub himself through the trousers. Stars, he was so close, he might come just from that kiss alone.

The Grandmaster parted their lips suddenly and flipped them over. He grabbed Loki’s wrists and pinned them down to the bed. Loki whined pathetically at the abrupt loss of friction and pouted. The Grandmaster grinned at him, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Tell, me sweetie,” he said. “Are you mine?”

Loki’s stomach clenched with sudden unease. He felt like mouse trapped under the cat’s sharp claws.

“Lolo, I asked you a question.” The Grandmaster urged him on.

Loki felt petrified, he couldn’t bring himself to give even a tiniest sound, his lips pressed tightly together. The Grandmaster frowned, clearly dissatisfied with his silence.

“I don’t think my own opinion matters that much here.” Loki stammered out eventually. The Grandmaster snorted with laughter.

“Oh, of course not. I wasn’t asking for your opinion, honey. I just wanted to make sure you’re, ah, aware that _you belong to me_. And to hear you say that out loud in that deep, husky voice of yours.”

Oh yes, Loki was painfully aware of that fact, but he’d rather not think about it too much.

“Oh, come on, sweet pie,” the Grandmaster urged him again. “Say it. Say that you’re mine. You belong to me, sweetheart. And isn’t that what you’ve always longed for, huh? To belong?”

Ah, the sweet irony. All his life he yearned for a place where he could be accepted. And it turned out that place is beside an absolute madman. He supposed the Norns must have a lot of fun lately, weaving his miserable fate.

Loki still refused to say anything and shot a hateful glare at the Grandmaster instead.

“Lolo, why are you doing this? You don’t want me to be upset again, do you? Don’t be stubborn. You know I don’t want to do, ah, any nasty things to you. I don’t want to hurt you, sweetie, you know how I hate doing this. But when you behave like this… you just, ah, leave me no choice.”

Loki felt his skin tingle, a faraway echo of the maddening pain. He wondered if it was the Grandmaster giving him a warning or just his own body reliving the still fresh memory.

“I am yours.” he murmured, his eyes lowered in resignation.

“I can’t hear you, sweetheart,” said the Grandmaster, still clearly discontent. “Be a good boy and say it loud and clear. And look me in the eye.”

Loki guessed he had to finally accept the fact that he hit a rock bottom and it didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon, so he’d better start settling in. The sooner, the better. At least nobody can say he gave in without a fight. He looked the Grandmaster straight in the eye and took a deep breath.

“I am yours.” he said finally.

“There you go. It wasn’t that hard, was it, kitten?”

“I belong to you wholly.” he continued, unprompted. “And forever.” He saw the Grandmaster’s smile grow wider with his every word. “You own my whole body. You own my every breath. You own every beat of my heart. My whole life belongs to you. I am helplessly and hopelessly at your absolute mercy.” When he finished, the Grandmaster closed his eyes and hummed with satisfaction. “But I hate you so much for this.” The Grandmaster’s face fell immediately.

“Aw, Lolo, you, ah, you just had to go and spoil everything. You just couldn’t stop yourself from adding a little drop of tar in all that sweet honey.” The Grandmaster made a pause for a deep sigh. “You see, darling, it’s not always appreciated to tell the whole truth. Sometimes it’s much better to keep certain things to yourself. And this time, this one and only time, I am going to be lenient and forgive you.” He wagged his finger at Loki. “But only today. You know I have a soft spot for you, precious, but lately you’re, uh, really testing my patience. You just… You can’t keep behaving like this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“I really hope so, sweetheart.”

“Shhhh. Now give us a kiss.”

“Oh, you little minx, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Loki thought it will most certainly be the other way around.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I’ve finished after I started writing again after a 10-year long break. And the first ever in English. So if you liked it, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> Also my hand might have slipped and I might have already started writing an angsty sequel where Thor comes to the rescue.


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